


A Pack of Misfits

by Akaluan



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Found Family, Gen, all Quincy are technically werewolves, guess what no one told Uryuu or Ichigo, i researched real wolves for this story, pack as family, so it's not perfect but i'm discarding a lot of werewolf tropes i hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaluan/pseuds/Akaluan
Summary: Finding out his temporary loss of powers had permanent side effects was bad enough for Uryuu; the desperate scramble for answers, the rising despair at not find any, and the need to hold himself back around the other teens -- his pack! -- was even worse. But finding out that Kurosaki Ichigo was suffering just like him? He wouldn't wish this curse on anyone, but at least he's not alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One of my many, many AUs that spawned a while back, this sat for months before I got suddenly inspired this weekend to finish up chapter one. I make no promises on update schedule with this story. Dragon Eclipse remains my priority, but sometimes the plunnies just... don't let go. So. Have the first chapter of this werewolf au.
> 
> The basic premise is that all Quincy are dormant werewolves, and losing their powers but still trying to reach for those powers triggers the lycanthropy into becoming active. There's no ability to transmit lycanthropy to anyone, you have to be born with it to become one. Also I did a LOT of research on Actual Wolf Behavior for this, so... expect a fair number of werewolf tropes to just... not exist here. I'm bored of them.
> 
> (For more information on this AU, and others, head over to my [tumblr](http://akaluan.tumblr.com) and do a search for "werewolf au".)

Uryuu crept deeper into the tangled forest outside of Karakura, senses on high alert and body tensed, his nails digging deeply into the strap of his satchel to keep his hands from shaking. The full moon hung overhead, luminous and large, a heavy contrast to the thick shadows that distorted the forest ahead of him. His mind was free to fill the shadows with looming threats and darting forms—

(So different from the bright, empty wasteland of Hueco Mundo. Where there was nothing to fear until suddenly there was _everything_ to fear.)

—and Uryuu had to keep himself from jumping at every whisper of wind and creak of wood. Had to keep his steps steady and his breathing even, even as his heart hammered in his chest and his brain was drowning in information.

The forest sang with a cacophony of chaotic power, drowning out all sense of the tame Karakura behind him. The power twisted and coiled about his body, snarling, demanding his attention.

He felt blind.

He felt like he could see everything.

A wolf howled in the distance, high and thin and long. Uryuu stopped in his tracks, jaw clenching against the visceral _fear_ that coursed through his body at the sound.

(Against the visceral _need_ to howl back.)

(That howl was so lonely, so _desperate_. It cut Uryuu to the quick, to hear and not respond.)

He took a deep breath and then released it, slow and steady, grounding his nerves and beating back the howl that was clawing its way up his throat. The scent of the forest flooded through him, cataloged and dismissed until he found the scent he was searching for: the unique mixture of soap-antiseptic-asphalt-fur that he had tracked through Karakura and to this wild preserve. The track led deeper into the forest, deeper into the darkness that his human eyes couldn't penetrate.

He needed to enter that darkness, needed to walk beyond the dimly lit verge he was currently hesitating in, needed to walk into the depths of the chaotic power.

Was he the man who had followed Kurosaki into Hueco Mundo or not?

Uryuu reached up to slip his glasses off, then folded them up and tucked them away in a pocket of his satchel. The world immediately snapped _into_ focus, sharp-edged and limned in silver-gold.

(He would never grow used to that transition.)

(The wolf howled again, lonely and mournful. The power twined around his limbs and beckoned him onward.)

Uryuu slunk through the forest, senses on alert. The satchel's strap creaked under his grip, fabric protesting as his nails dug deeper. He followed the trail of power, followed the _lonely-desperate-empty_ howls that guided him onward, and tried to drown his human instincts with memories of who he was following.

(It was one thing to resolve to take action, surrounded by books and the warm glow of civilization. It was another to follow that resolve into the wilds, bereft of all but hints of moonlight and the capricious light of _power._ )

He paused, head tilting as the breeze shifted and brought a whiff of _Kurosaki_ to his nose. Uncertain of his reception, Uryuu held still and scanned the undergrowth, gaze skipping from shadow to shadow and nostrils flaring as he tried to pinpoint where Kurosaki would appear.

A confused _whuf_ sound caught his attention at last, directing his gaze towards a large rock. The wolf that warily stepped from behind the rock was slender, with lanky limbs and ragged fur that left it looking unkempt. Its ears were forward, though, and there was an intelligent glint in its glowing eyes as it paused a few feet away and sniffed the air.

Uryuu licked suddenly dry lips; no amount of reading or research had prepared him for the _reality_ of a creature that stood as tall as his waist and stared at him with such _intelligence_. His human instincts were _screaming_ that he run, that he flee, that he prepare to _die._ And yet… and yet…

He shook himself, tilted his head at the wolf in front of him, and gave his own breathy, excited _whuf_ of acknowledgment.

(This was his pack-brother. His leader.)

(He was safe with Kurosaki.)

Kurosaki blinked, ears swiveling in confusion even as his tail gave a slight wag. He cautiously stepped closer, one paw at a time, until he could lean into Uryuu's side and nudge his head under Uryuu's hand.

Kurosaki was a heavy weight against his body, and Uryuu needed to brace himself in order to remain standing, but it was comforting. An acknowledgment. A sign of trust. Of _pack_. "You're not caring for yourself," Uryuu said with a frown, sliding his fingers down to the tangled, matted fur around Kurosaki's neck. "Why would you not…" Uryuu bit back his words and looked away.

Of course he knew why Kurosaki wasn't caring for himself. Hadn't he felt it himself? Lost and terrified and so _alone_ , unable to reach out but desperately _needing_ the people he'd begun to consider friends.

(Hiding away, denying his instincts. Denying his _need_.)

(Urahara had saved him. Set him free and sent him _fleeing_ back to his pack. And Ichigo had accepted him. Had taken him back without question.)

"We'll deal with this another night," Uryuu said as he pulled his hand free of Kurosaki's fur and tilted the other's chin up. He fixed his gaze on glowing amber eyes, gathered his resolve, his _love_ , and spoke firmly, "Kurosaki Ichigo. Tomorrow is a school day, and your attendance has been spotty enough already. You can sleep on my couch if you don't want to return to your home, but gallivanting around naked in the forest is _not_ the answer."

Kurosaki jerked his head away, eyes wide and ears pinned back, muscles _rippling_ under his skin…

Uryuu winced, unable to look away as Kurosaki's fur sloughed off in patchy clumps that faded away into clumps of flickering silver. As the wolf _melted_ into silver streamers that twisted and swirled together, until a _human_ was slumped against Uryuu's legs, panting and shivering and naked.

"Put some clothes on," Uryuu pretended to complain, offering Kurosaki a hand to help him stand. He ignored the way dark claws _dug_ into his skin as Kurosaki gripped his arm. Ignored the way Kurosaki swayed and slumped against Uryuu, struggling to reorient himself to two legs instead of four. Ignored the way Kurosaki's hand clung tight to Uryuu's shirt.

(Ignored, but didn't _overlook_.)

"Ruined mine," Kurosaki muttered into Uryuu's shoulder, free hand gesturing vaguely behind him. "Somewhere."

Uryuu _whuffed_ in amusement and shook his head. He'd expected that. "Well, since I'd rather not try to sneak you into town like this… I supposed it's a good thing I brought something for you." It was difficult to maneuver his backpack while trying to hold Kurosaki upright, but he managed it. And managed to pull out the clothing he had packed and shove them against Kurosaki's chest without sending them both to the ground, too. "Try these on."

Kurosaki cracked open one gleaming amber eye to assess Uryuu, then whined and straightened up, pulling away from Uryuu as he did. He made a face at the flipflops and unopened pack of underwear, but didn't say anything as he sank one black claw into the thin plastic and ripped the pack open. He dressed slowly, body clumsy and swaying enough that Uryuu was worried his friend would fall.

So he stood nearby, gaze turned outward and head cocked to keep Kurosaki within his peripheral vision, standing guard.

(He'd let _nothing_ attempt to harm his pack-brother. Not in this state.)

The _instant_ Kurosaki tugged on the loose shirt and finished dressing, Uryuu was back at his friend's side. He wrapped an arm around Kurosaki's waist and pulled Kurosaki's arm over his shoulder, thankful for the strength his own change had granted him. The trip out of the forest was going to be hard enough without the added strain of supporting Kurosaki's weight.

The wild reiatsu coiled around their bodies, tangling their limbs and obscuring Uryuu's senses. It beckoned-whispered- _tempted_ , urging him deeper into the forest, urging him to _not leave_.

(The moon held tight to her children.)

But Uryuu soldiered on, dragging Kurosaki along with him through the dark woods, following his scent trail backwards. He — _they_ — needed to go home, to rest and eat and _talk_ about what had happened. Hiding away in the forest wouldn't help anything, no matter how tempting.

By the time they reached the forest's verge, Kurosaki was barely supporting his own weight, eyes drooping closed and chin nearly touching his chest. Uryuu _whuffed_ at him again, making Kurosaki startle a bit and perk up, looking over at Uryuu in question.

"Not much further," Uryuu reassured his friend, freeing a hand to muss his own bangs a bit to better hide his eyes. There was nothing he could do about hiding Kurosaki's eyes, but hopefully he'd continue to keep his head down in case they passed any humans.

Kurosaki whined but nodded, gathering himself to keep moving. They crossed the small bridge that led back into the town proper and Uryuu began to guide them back to his apartment, keeping to the shortest path he knew. It was late enough that there weren't many people out and about, and the few that saw them didn't do more than glance at Uryuu and Kurosaki before looking away and hurrying on.

They reached his apartment building without being stopped, and Uryuu eyed the stairs in despair. Three flights. They needed to climb _three flights_ in order to reach his apartment, with Kurosaki all but asleep at his side and Uryuu's instincts _clamoring_ to return to the safety of his den with his pack-brother.

"Almost there," Uryuu told Kurosaki, nudging his friend to rouse him again. "Just some stairs left, alright?" Kurosaki blinked sleepily at him then nodded, tilting his head to look up at the stairs they needed to take.

Uryuu adjusted his grip on Kurosaki, then reinforced his body as best he could and started up the stairs. Three flights felt _impossible_ , but Uryuu kept putting one foot in front of the other, kept his grip on Kurosaki, kept _moving_ despite nearly falling whenever Kurosaki tripped.

Reaching his landing was a relief, and Uryuu almost dragged Kurosaki down the hall to reach his den, fumbling with his key until it _finally_ turned and let him back into safety. Uryuu flipped the lights on, kicked the door closed behind him and slid the deadbolt home, then pulled Kurosaki over to his couch and let the exhausted teen go.

Kurosaki collapsed into the cushions and immediately migrated to the corner of the couch where _Uryuu_ usually sat. He kicked off the flipflops and drew his legs up onto the couch, curling up and making himself comfortable. His eyes scanned the sparsely furnish room, then moved to stare up at Uryuu. "Your eyes…"

Uryuu grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of the way. There was no longer a point to hiding, and no real way to hide it either, not this close and in such a well-lit room. Kurosaki's eyes at least stayed similar, turning amber instead of brown, but _Uryuu_ _'s_ eyes… there was nothing _similar_ to his human eye color about them.

(Silver-grey like the moon, with a ring of green around his pupils. A far cry from his usual deep blue.)

"It happens," Uryuu answered stiltedly, looking away. "Your eyes are different, too." He didn't wait for Kurosaki's answer, just stepped into his small kitchen and opened the fridge, wondering what he had on hand that Kurosaki might like.

Stacked boxes of leftovers filled almost all of one shelf and part of a second, both homemade and take-out. He'd had to get… creative with his meal planning, once his own changes began; he needed a lot more food now than he had a year ago, and most of that he could point directly at the change being the cause.

Giving up on deciding, Uryuu pulled out a stack of different things and set the first one in the microwave to reheat. "I don't know what you'd prefer, but I'm sure at least _something_ I have will be acceptable," Uryuu said, grabbing dishes and utensils and heading back into the main room.

Kurosaki made a face and sat up. "You don't have to feed me. Or… or do any of this. I—"

"Kurosaki, shut up," Uryuu growled, irritation causing him to tighten his grip on a bowl more than necessary as he set it down. It _cracked_ , spiderweb lines radiating out from under his fingers, and Uryuu winced as he let go.

(Another thing broken because of this curse. Because of his lack of control. Because of his _failure to adapt_.)

(Was Ichigo having these same problems?)

Uryuu took a deep breath and tried to rein in his irritation. The rest of the dishes were set down with almost painful delicacy under Kurosaki's concerned gaze. But his pack-brother said nothing, and Uryuu forced himself to continue. "If you haven't noticed yet, we share a bit more these days than most." He held up one hand, clicking his heavy claws together to draw Kurosaki's attention. "I have no idea how the hell you gained the Quincy bloodline curse, but you _have it_ , and I'm not going to let you struggle through that on your own." _Like I had to do_ , Uryuu didn't say.

(It was bad enough, missing all the signs until now. Leaving Kurosaki to handle the initial changes all on his own.)

(Uryuu didn't know if he'd ever forgive himself that oversight.)

"Quincy… bloodline curse?" Kurosaki frowned, looking down at his own clawed hands. "This whole… werewolf thing is because of the Quincy?"

"Unless you would like to tell me which kami you angered enough to curse you?"

Kurosaki scowled at his hands and fell back into silence, thumb absently rubbing at his thick claws.

Uryuu left him to it, picking up the broken bowl and retreating to the kitchen to discard it. He cycled the containers of leftovers through the microwave, making sure everything was heated through, and grabbed two glasses for water to bring out as well. As the dishes were readied, he carried them out and set them down carefully, slowly filling up the little coffee table with plenty of options for the two of them to choose from.

By the time everything was ready, Kurosaki's attention was flickering between Uryuu and the food, a conflicted expression on his face.

"Eat," Uryuu ordered his friend, as he took a seat on the other end of the couch and started to eat the dish he'd chosen to start with. "Whatever you want."

Kurosaki hesitated, then moved forward and dished himself up some food and dug in. They settled into a comfortable silence, passing dishes back and forth as they cleaned up nearly everything Uryuu had set out.

"I can't think of any kami capable of… of _this_ that I might have offended," Kurosaki admitted, setting aside his bowl and chopsticks and curling back up. "But… if this is a bloodline thing, why's it only showing up now?"

Uryuu set down his own dishes, then tucked himself comfortably in the corner of the couch so that he could face Kurosaki. "Best I can tell, it's… it's usually dormant. I think… I think it shows up if we lose our powers."

Kurosaki's amber gaze was piercing. "And stops when you regain them?"

"Stops progressing, at least," Uryuu agreed, looking away from Kurosaki's gaze and instead focusing on the distance between them. He wanted… he wanted _comfort_. He wanted to curl up with his pack-brother and just _relax_ for once, revel in the fact that his den wasn't _lonely-empty-cold_ for a time. But he… he _couldn_ _'t_. Kurosaki hadn't indicated he _wanted_ Uryuu in his personal space, no matter his choice of where to sit.

(Please let Ichigo not want to leave tonight… even just this was better than nothing.)

Kurosaki sighed and rubbed at his face, exhaustion dragging at his shoulders and making him look so much smaller than Uryuu had ever seen him before. "No going back, huh?"

"Not… not that I've been able to find," Uryuu said softly, hating the way his words made Kurosaki slump in dejection. Before he could help himself, Uryuu slid forward and wriggled between Kurosaki and the back of the couch, partially draping himself over his pack-brother in an attempt at comfort.

"The hell?" Kurosaki bit out, body rigid and his arm held awkwardly above Uryuu's body. "Ishida, what are you—"

"S-sorry," Uryuu muttered, pressing his face into Kurosaki's chest for a moment to take in his pack-brother's scent before trying to pull himself free. "I… you looked… like you needed comfort, and you're my pack, s-so I…"

Kurosaki's hand settled on the back of his neck and Uryuu froze, watching Kurosaki warily, wondering how his friend would react.

Uryuu had spent months coming to terms with his new instincts. With labeling Kurosaki and the others as _pack_. He'd also spent months denying his need to press close and nap in their presence, months of keeping a lid on his urge to tease and goad them into what amounted to _play._

Fighting at their side was enough, _had to be_ enough, especially with Kurosaki pulling away from them. There was no time for levity, for _play_ , Uryuu had to remind himself constantly.

(He was helpless against Ichigo's depression. Helpless and weak and _never good enough_. There was no time for play, not when he needed to defend and try to support his wounded pack-brother.)

"Pack," Kurosaki said slowly, expression considering. "That's why you've been hanging out with the others without complaining as much." His body started to relax, and the hand on the back of Uryuu's neck pressed down a bit harder.

Uryuu shrugged awkwardly and followed the pressure down, until he was sprawled across Kurosaki once more and his friend's hand had moved to settle on his back. "They're pack too," he reluctantly agreed, closing his eyes and just enjoying the warmth of being allowed this.

"But they don't know about this."

"No." Uryuu had never wanted to tell them, unsure how they would react.

Kurosaki _whuffed_ at him, sound chiding, and pulled Uryuu tighter against his body as he shifted around on the couch in order to stretch his legs out. "They need to know," Kurosaki stated as he settled Uryuu more comfortably against his side. "Especially since we're _both_ like this."

"They don't—"

"They _do_ , Ishida," Kurosaki said, rapping his knuckles lightly against Uryuu's skull. "How much easier would the past few months have been for _you_ if they knew?"

"What about _you_ ," Uryuu countered, pushing himself up enough to glower at Kurosaki. "Don't think I didn't notice you pulling away from us!"

Shame crossed Kurosaki's expression and he looked away, ducking his chin down as he did. "Sorry. That… that wasn't… I'm sorry."

Uryuu sighed and shook his head. "You need to apologize to the others, not _me_. _I_ didn't enjoy it, but… it's not like I didn't do the same. When you lose _everything_ , and then _this_ starts to happen—" he tapped a claw against Kurosaki's chest, drawing his friend's gaze back to him, "—everything's just too much, isn't it? And suddenly you're thinking about things differently, and you're hungry all the time but why bother eating, and you feel too _needy_ so you just pull away…"

"We're both a mess, aren't we?" Kurosaki asked.

Uryuu stared at Kurosaki, thinking about the effects of telling the other teens. The very idea terrified him; what if they turned him away? He could survive with what he had right now, but if they cast him out… "Do we have to tell them?" he asked in a small voice, hoping against hope that Kurosaki would back down, would say no.

Kurosaki's hand slid through Uryuu's hair, fingers carefully bent so only the smooth backs of his claws touched Uryuu's scalp. "They won't turn us away," he said confidently. "Tatsuki's been through a lot with me already, and you know how loyal Chad is. And Orihime would _never_ be that mean."

"But they're _your_ friends, not mine," Uryuu muttered, eyes slipping closed as he relaxed into the touch.

"They're _ours_ ," Kurosaki insisted, before sighing and giving in. "Alright. Let's just… get used to this? Maybe we can figure some more things out together, and then tell them when we know more?"

Relief flooded his body at the reprieve; it wasn't a promise to _keep_ it a secret, but it was a delay. And maybe… maybe Kurosaki would stop withdrawing from them at school? Having his full pack around all at once would be incredible, especially with Kurosaki being like him.

(He wouldn't be so alone. So _lonely_ despite being among his pack.)

(Maybe… maybe Ichigo was right.)

(Dare he take such a chance?)

"How much do you know about this, anyway?" Kurosaki asked, pulling Uryuu's attention back to him.

Uryuu shrugged, uncomfortable with the question but unwilling to lie to his pack-brother. "Not much. I don't… there's not many mentions of whatever this is in any of the Quincy books I can read." And it had been hard enough to find those mentions in the first place, much less piece together what little information he'd been able to glean from it all. It was almost like his ancestors were ashamed of it. "I've just been writing down what I notice and trying to get by."

Kurosaki considered that, fingers still combing through Uryuu's hair absently. "Did you know you could… undo the change like that? When you came to me tonight."

Uryuu hesitated, then reluctantly admitted, "No."

"You idiot!" Kurosaki tugged sharply at Uryuu's hair, frustration heavy in his voice. "What if I'd attacked you? You just walked right to me and then let me approach like that!"

"But you wouldn't have!" Uryuu glared back at Kurosaki. "We keep our minds for the most part, and I wasn't being threatening!"

Kurosaki growled, lips curling back to show the tips of his wolf-like teeth. "Not good enough. That was stupid, Ishida."

"I could have escaped," Uryuu muttered petulantly, looking away. Kurosaki's words _burned_ , because his friend was right; with how little he knew about this curse, it _was_ a foolish move to approach Kurosaki like that. But he'd been so anxious, so hopeful that Kurosaki would consider him pack, that he'd just… ignored the danger. "Besides, it's not like your plans are any better."

"My plans work just fine!"

Uryuu snorted and gave Kurosaki an incredulous look. "Because of _luck_. You charge head first into things and hope for the best. Just because it _works_ doesn't mean it's a _good plan_."

Kurosaki huffed a laugh and tugged on Uryuu's hair again. "So does that mean you were channeling me when you went into that forest tonight?"

"Wh— absolutely not!" Uryuu denied.

"You were!"

Uryuu refused to respond and instead just flopped back down on Kurosaki's chest, situating himself comfortably and letting the steady beat of his friend's heart sooth his mind. He ignored Kurosaki's quiet _whuf_ of amusement in favor of enjoying the closeness his pack-brother was allowing.

(If Kurosaki never allowed him this again, at least he would have this memory.)

Uryuu was nearly asleep when Kurosaki asked in a soft voice, "Am I going to change again tomorrow night?"

"Mmm?"

"Into a wolf."

Uryuu scrambled to wake up enough to answer Kurosaki's question, trying to call up everything he knew about the change, but… "I don't know," he had to admit. "You could… come over tomorrow?"

"Is that safe?" Kurosaki fretted with the edge of Uryuu's shirt, tugging and twisting it between his fingers. "We're surrounded by people, here."

"Called you back once," Uryuu huffed, grabbing Kurosaki's hand and pulling it free of his shirt. "Safe enough."

"But—"

"Stop worrying," Uryuu growled. "Go to _sleep._ Both need it."

"Heh… alright. Goodnight, Ishida."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Finally starting to work on this story again, whoops! I have big hopes for this next year, though, so I'm hoping I can post a lot more of this in the year ahead.
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested in reading some of my writing that hasn't been posted here, come see me on [tumblr](http://akaluan.tumblr.com) or my new [wordpress](http://akaluan.silveredmagic.com) which will have all my newer AUs and short stories.

Ichigo woke with a crick in his neck and a heavy weight pinning him to the uncomfortable couch he'd fallen asleep on. He opened his eyes and peered blearily at whatever was sprawled across his chest; Ishida remained where he'd fallen asleep the previous night, his breathing deep and even and his body more relaxed than Ichigo had ever seen him.

That he hadn't woken Ishida spoke of how little rest his friend was getting, struggling with the mess his life had become.

(How had he missed so much? How had _everyone_ missed it? Hadn't Ishida been showing signs of exhaustion?)

Ichigo took a deep breath and tried to pop his neck without disturbing Ishida. Scents flooded into his mind, dimmer than the previous night but still vibrant and reassuring. The smell of food lingered in the air along with the general building-scents he'd grown used to — wood and paper and fabric and all the various little things that _made_ a space — but the most pervasive scent was that of _Ishida._

(He'd already memorized it. Already knew what _his pack_ smelled like.)

(Already knew he'd never forget.)

Ishida's apartment already felt more like home than his _own_ home did. It felt like safety and warmth and _love_ and Ichigo was… reluctant to wake Ishida. Ishida might retreat from him when he woke and Ichigo… didn't want that.

(Ishida's weight across his chest was comforting, soothing an ache he hadn't even realized had grown.)

_Pack_ , Ishida had called him, clinging and stuttering and terrified of rejection. And once assured that Ichigo didn't mind, he'd clung with no intent of moving. But now that the moon had faded and their senses with it — now that their bodies _looked_ human — would Ishida cling to his aloof facade and pull away?

Ichigo hadn't considered telling the others about turning into, of all unbelievable things, a werewolf. He hadn't wanted to burden them with knowing he was once again an anomaly, a _danger_ , but—

But Ishida had come to him and Ichigo had recognized his friend. He'd felt no urge to attack, only confusion and a touch of breathless awe at his friend finding him. And maybe that lack of fury was just a result of Ishida already being a werewolf, but… Ichigo hadn't felt even a whisper of the storied fury and rage.

(And Ishida clung to him in return, wild with need and terrified of rejection.)

(That fear couldn't remain if they wanted to be a pack.)

For Ishida's sake they couldn't keep this from the others. For Ishida's sake they _couldn_ _'t_ tell the others, not yet. Not when the thought caused Ishida to curl in on himself and smell of terror. No matter how confident Ichigo was in their friends' acceptance of this newest curve-ball, he refused to terrorize Ishida to prove a point.

He breathed out. In. Let the scent of _home-pack-safety_ settle his nerves. He needed to focus. Ishida needed an anchor, needed Ichigo to be there to support him and help him map out the limits of their new abilities. He… he could do that. He could.

(It was more purpose than he'd had in months.)

(It felt like freedom.)

Ishida stirred and yawned, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. He lifted his head enough to prop his chin on Ichigo's chest and blinked, confusion seeping into his expression. "Kurosaki..?"

"Morning," Ichigo answered, lifting a hand and threading his fingers through Ishida's hair again. His friend had seemed to find the motions soothing last night, and it appeared to remain true, as Ishida relaxed and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. "Not sure what time it is," Ichigo continued, "but it's probably still morning."

"You're… still here," Ishida murmured in disbelief.

Ichigo bit back the urge to make a snarky comment; now was not the time to fall into his usual banter with Ishida no matter how comfortable he found it. "Of course I am. You're pack."

Ishida's body went still and he slit open his eyes to stare at Ichigo. "Why are you like this?" he whispered.

"You were my friend even before this newest mess. All this does is give me even more reason to stay close," he said without an ounce of regret.

Ishida wrinkled his nose at Ichigo's declaration but didn't pull away. Whatever doubts he had, he enjoyed the attention Ichigo was giving him and was unwilling to do something that would make Ichigo stop.

Except they needed to, Ichigo remembered with annoyance. Unless they'd slept longer than he thought, it was Friday morning and school was waiting.

(He didn't want to go. Didn't want to relinquish this warmth.)

(He'd only just found it.)

"Hey." Ichigo tugged on a lock of Ishida's hair before resuming his previous soothing motions. "We going to school today or staying home?"

Ishida groaned and let his head thump back onto Ichigo's chest, startling a laugh out of Ichigo. "Don't want to," Ishida muttered mutinously, "but we probably should."

"Nope. None of that," Ichigo responded with amusement. "I think we've earned a day to ourselves, right? You can show me what you've worked out and we can both rest. I know I'm still tired from last night, so…"

Ishida cracked open an eye and squinted at Ichigo as if to judge his truthfulness. The wariness _hurt_ but Ichigo could understand it; Ishida had been abandoned time and time again. Ichigo choosing to _stay_ stood out, and doubly so in the face of Ichigo's recent habits of avoidance.

He'd done none of them any favors, retreating from everyone the way he had. Tatsuki (almost) understood, and did her best to _be there_ without making everything worse, but the others…

They hadn't been there after his mother's death and the depression he'd fallen into. Hadn't seen him blank and empty and unable to _speak_ —

(It was always his fault. His failures were vast and incomprehensible and _unfixable_.)

(He could only pick himself up and keep moving forward.)

(Ishida needed him like his sisters needed him.)

(He needed to do better.)

"We can't do this all the time," Ishida warned him. "It's… it's hard enough to manage when the moon is out during the day. We can't just… always skip around the full moons."

"We won't. Just… let's take the day to ourselves. We can deal with the next full moon when it comes, but… I think I'd like to just… have this?" Ichigo trailed off with a grimace and looked away, uncomfortable with how needy he sounded. They both needed this, he reminded himself. "So… it really is just the moon that triggers it?" Ichigo asked to distract himself. "It's not nightfall?"

"Just the moon," Ishida confirmed. "I've been keeping track of moon rise and set since… since it started. The changes always happen around moon rise and fade at moon set."

"Cloud cover?"

"Doesn't matter." Ishida shook his head, then yawned and nuzzled closer, relaxing with his head pressed to Ichigo's chest. "Awareness of the time or the rising of the moon doesn't seem to matter either. Whether or not we see it, the moon rising above the horizon is enough to trigger the change."

Ichigo frowned and turned Ishida's words over in his mind, trying to match them with any of the legends he'd read up on and coming up short. "So it's not moonlight specifically, just… the moon itself?"

"Far as I can tell."

"Huh." Ichigo ran a hand down Ishida's back, smiling at the tiny noise of contentment Ishida made in response. "What else have you figured out?" he prompted. Ishida had said he didn't know much the previous evening, but Ichigo wondered if that was only because Ishida didn't have the answers he wanted.

(His friend sold himself short so often.)

Ishida fidgeted and tucked his head down. "Only whatever I could figure out just by… living," he reluctantly admitted. "Uhm… things seem to follow the moon cycle. Metabolism, senses, and… and instincts wax and wane with the moon. Everything is more pronounced when the moon is in the sky, no matter the phase. Physical changes like claws and eyes only happen the couple days the moon is full."

That didn't sound like any of the stories he'd read. Beyond changing with the full moon, very little he'd found matched what they were living. He didn't _feel_ like a ravening beast or like he was at odds with himself; the change was disorienting and left him exhausted but nothing else about it was that terrible.

(Well. The disorientation sucked. If he could avoid that the change wouldn't be terrible.)

"Legends aren't going to be very helpful," Ichigo unhappily concluded.

"I… doubt it." Ishida swallowed and pressed closer, whispering, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, none of that," Ichigo said, closing his hand around the back of Ishida's neck. He hated how tense Ishida had become with those two words. "This isn't your fault, and neither is your inability to find answers, okay? We'll get through this together and figure it all out."

"What if we can't?"

"We will," Ichigo said with confidence. "We'll just make our own way like we have been. Together."

Ishida lifted his head enough to peer at Ichigo, fingers tightening in Ichigo's shirt and his posture uncertain. "Together?"

"I won't abandon you again," Ichigo tried to reassure, gentling his tone. Ishida wouldn't believe him right away, but he expected that. He needed to be honest from the start. "I—I might still need time to myself," he admitted, "I'm not… I still…" He squeezed his eyes shut, the words sticking in his throat. He didn't want to do this. Didn't want to admit the truth. But months of keeping it all inside had gained him nothing but silent pain and losing touch with everything that mattered. "It hurts," he whispered, "What I… what I did. I don't regret it but… it… I hurt…"

Ishida whined and freed one hand from Ichigo's shirt, fingertips brushing against Ichigo's temple. "Is there anything…?"

"I don't know." He remained still under Ishida's touch until his friend's confidence rose and his fingers slid through Ichigo's hair.

(Oh. Oh that felt good.)

(No wonder Ishida reacted so well to it.)

Ishida's touch grew more confident as Ichigo remained still, combing his fingers through Ichigo's hair and coaxing a contented sigh from Ichigo. "I don't… think I understand what you did," Ishida prompted.

"Don't think I really understand it either," Ichigo said with a grimace, keeping his eyes closed and his head tilted to the side. "Goat-face said it was the only way, but… I don't know if that's right." He cracked open an eye and looked up at Ishida warily. "If you really want to know…"

Ishida's lips thinned and his jaw clenched as he nodded, but his touch remained gentle, emotions clearly directed elsewhere.

"Okay. Uhm," Ichigo gathered his thoughts, trying to put some order to everything that made sense. "It was… Shinigami have zanpakutou spirits, right? They're… what gives a Shinigami their abilities. Learning the name and gaining the spirit's trust is important to becoming stronger. But… but I already had bankai, and—and there's nothing past that. Not… not really. Goat-face… he said there was something else…"

"And you had no other option, so you took it," Ishida said into the stillness that fell.

"Yeah," Ichigo whispered, squeezing his eyes closed against the tears that threatened. "Aizen was so strong… what else could I have done?" Three months of training, of fighting Zangetsu every step of the way to learn a skill the other despised. _Had_ there been another way? Something that Zangetsu, that _either_ of his spirits, had known but Ichigo had refused to hear?

(The question ate at him with every breath he took.)

Ishida continued to comb his fingers through Ichigo's hair, his touch grounding Ichigo. "You don't need to say if you don't want to," Ishida offered. "It's… not really my place to ask. I'm sorry."

He sighed at the out Ishida was leaving him. It was tempting to accept. To remain mute on the topic. But part of him refused.

(A dark, pain-twisted part of himself hoped the revelation would drive Ishida away. Would drive this warmth away.)

(This warmth he didn't deserve and yet _wanted_ _…_ )

Ishida pressed closer, burying his face in the crook of Ichigo's neck and making soft noises in the back of his throat. He pinned Ichigo to the couch more thoroughly than before, his weight reassuring and comforting and _warm_ , and Ichigo…

He couldn't force the words out. Tried to speak. Failed. Lay beneath Ishida and _trembled_ , mute and lost and _cold-empty-desperate_ —he wanted—needed to speak— _couldn_ _'t—_ made it _worse_ —

Ishida clung tighter. Made soothing noises. _Waited_.

Ichigo whined. Cleared his throat. "I k-killed th-them," he forced out, "F-fought a-and won and—and _merged_ _…_ "

"You…" Ishida froze but didn't draw back, didn't pull away to give Ichigo the disgusted look he had expected.

(That he had earned.)

(He destroyed part of his _soul_ _…_ )

"No wonder you hurt," Ishida whispered into Ichigo's neck. "You pulled your entire _soul_ forward for that battle. I—I'm surprised you're even _alive_ —" Ichigo winced, then winced again when Ishida tugged at his hair, "— _stop that_. You wounded yourself horribly for a _chance_ at beating Aizen! That you're alive is a _miracle_." Ishida whined and shivered, clinging like a limpet.

Ichigo swallowed and wrapped his arms around Ishida, shaken by Ishida's emotions. He'd thought— he'd not wanted—

(Did he… really mean so much to Ishida?)

"Fool," Ishida muttered against Ichigo's neck. "You goddamn self-sacrificing _bastard_. Souls don't… they don't _heal_ the same way bodies do."

"I know," Ichigo responded. He remembered the way Urahara had looked at him, sad and ashamed and unable to make eye-contact. Remembered how Goat-face looked away. Remembered how the Shinigami hadn't even bothered to keep in contact.

"How much more will they ask of you?"

"What?"

"The Shinigami," Ishida clarified, tone dark. "Will they find a way to demand more from you?"

"I'm not very useful right now. I can't even _sense_ anything, much less _see_ something. I… I destroyed that part of myself—"

"No!" Ishida growled, dark and dangerous, making Ichigo's breath catch in his throat. "Souls _can_ heal. Sensei told me it takes time, but they can! And the werewolf change seems to enhance healing, and—and maybe some Quincy techniques I've found could be of use!" He sat up and frowned down at Ichigo, blue eyes bright with unshed tears. "Some of them are to help recover from a Hollow attack and are used to heal the soul, so—so maybe that!" He licked his lips, hands fidgeting with the front of Ichigo's shirt, and asked softly, tone pleading, "We could try?"

Ichigo stared up at Ishida in surprise. He… wanted to help? Was willing to dig through Quincy skills to find something that _might_ have a chance at salvaging what was left of his soul? "You'd… do that?"

Ishida glared down at him. "Of course I would! And if none of it works, then I'll just _make something!_ "

"You'd… make something? Just—just to heal me?"

"On the agreement that you _never_ do that again!" Ishida demanded, eyes narrowed and tears creeping down his cheeks. He growled and swiped at the tear tracks, trying to scrub the evidence away. "Your survival this time is a _miracle_. I don't… I don't want to know I healed you only for you to throw it all away later because you're still a self-sacrificing _fool!_ "

He winced. Of all the reactions he'd gotten out of those who knew, Ishida's hurt the most, raw and honest and _aching_ at the thought of what he'd done. "Sorry," he murmured, moving a hand to cover one of Ishida's. "Sorry, Ishida. I'll… try to never get in that position again."

"You'll _try?!_ "

"If my options are saving the world or my _life_ , I'm going to choose the world." Ichigo looked away, unable to meet Ishida's gaze. He knew it wasn't what his friend wanted to hear but… he knew no other way.

"If you reach that sort of choice again, I expect you to _ask me for help!_ We're pack and that means we help each other!"

Ichigo released a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, tightening his hand atop Ishida's. He didn't know if Ishida could have helped this time; Aizen hadn't trapped Ishida in his illusions, but Ichigo had wounded him badly not long before.

(He would never forgive himself for that.)

"Wolves hunt in packs for a reason," Ishida continued, voice softer but still firm. "Together they can take down prey they couldn't alone. We should… we should use that to our advantage."

"We'd need to learn how."

"Then we learn, along with everything _else_ we need to learn," Ishida said with a huff, pulling his hand free and clambering over Ichigo to get off the couch. His hand settled on Ichigo's shoulder, fingers tightening in a comforting grip. "Come on. Let's eat and then I can show you everything I've discovered."

Ichigo groaned and pushed himself up, rubbing at his neck and watching Ishida head to the kitchen area.

(Fighting as a team as just another thing to learn, huh? He wondered if he could use that to pull the others closer.)

(Maybe then Ishida would begin to believe that they wouldn't abandon him.)

* * *

 

Ishida rose and vanished into his bedroom after breakfast was over. Ichigo stared after him for a moment before turning away and moving to clean up.

There wasn't much to clean beyond the dishes; the curse demanded more of them than Ichigo thought possible. Between his lack of appetite from the pain and depression and only eating a standard portion whenever he _could_ eat, he'd been shorting himself without realizing it. But here, sat next to Ishida and with the scents of _food_ and _safety_ and _home_ mingling in his mind, it had been easier.

Easier to accept another small portion when Ishida offered. Easier to nibble his way through it, distracted by Ishida's dry commentary on the Quincy of the past. Easier to forget how much he'd eaten until the table was clear of food and his stomach was heavy and full.

(He'd never eaten so much without feeling sick before.)

(Was this a permanent cost of the curse?)

"Here. And make sure you read the second section thoroughly," Ishida said when he returned, offering Ichigo a thin notebook and holding a heavy, leather-bound book in his other hand.

Ichigo accepted the notebook and returned to the couch, settling into the corner he'd claimed and opening the notebook. He skimmed the first few lines as Ishida took a seat next to him and inwardly grimaced at the shaky hand Ishida had written it in. This was just more evidence of how everything had affected his friend and how little attention they'd been paying to him.

(Was this his fault for pulling away? Would the others have noticed if they hadn't been fixated on _him?_ )

He closed his eyes and breathed, hands tightening on the notebook and guilt eating at his mind. If only he hadn't been so selfish, so intent on staying away…

(His fault. Everything was always his fault.)

Ishida pressed into his side, a warm and comforting weight that Ichigo tried to focus on. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," Ichigo replied reflexively, opening his eyes to give Ishida his best reassuring look. His friend was looking at him in concern, large book propped open against one leg and a hand spread across the pages to hold it in place. "Just… tired is all."

Ishida narrowed his eyes then sighed and turned back to his book instead of trying to push. But he didn't pull away like Ichigo expected, just wriggled against his side until he was comfortable.

His warmth was a relief, pushing back the cold ache of Ichigo's damaged soul.

(He never wanted to move.)

Ichigo did his best to focus on what Ishida had written but a spark of curiosity kept his attention drifting back to the book in Ishida's hands. He could see the pages from this angle and recognized the roman alphabet it was written in, but that was _all_ he could recognize. The words made no sense and strange, complex diagrams took of large portions of some pages.

"Going to keep staring or are you going to ask?" Ishida asked after another few pages, tipping his head to give Ichigo an amused look. When Ichigo winced and looked away, Ishida sighed and let his head thump back against Ichigo's shoulder. "It's German and yes, I can mostly understand it. Enough to get the gist of what's on the page, at least. I think… three generations ago? Maybe four? Anyway, a couple generations back a branch of the family moved to Japan from Germany and brought a lot of books with them. There's some in almost every European language, but German is the most common."

"And the diagrams?" Ichigo asked, wondering how much Ishida was willing to answer.

"Technique diagrams. They're not all this complex but this is one of the advanced books. I'm, uhm…" he licked his lips and refocused on the book in his hands, voice going soft, "I'm trying to find something that might help you…"

"Already?" It felt unreal. Surely Ishida wanted to spend more time hunting down clues about their change rather than trying to learn complicated techniques in foreign languages just to help Ichigo fix his own foolish mistakes.

Ishida glowered at him. "It's been four months, Kurosaki. Unless you want to inform me that you _have_ been recovering on your own?" At Ichigo's small head-shake, Ishida huffed and continued, "I thought not. In that case, four months is far too long. It's best if I research this now instead of putting it off."

Ichigo couldn't find the words to refute Ishida's idea; it wasn't like he _wanted_ every breath, every movement to ache or to feel like he was slowly freezing to death. Nor did he want to be defenseless, blind to anything and everything that could hut him or those he cared about.

But Ishida doing that for him sat… awkward in his mind.

(He was the one who helped others. The one who fixed problems that no one else could.)

(To have _Ishida_ do it for him…)

He took a deep breath and held it, head tipping back to rest against the couch cushion behind him. The scent of Ishida and his den calmed his restless mind.

(He was not the only one to benefit from this.)

(That… helped more than he thought it would.)

They were pack. Pack helped one another.

This was Ishida's way of helping and Ichigo needed to remember that. He hadn't forced his friend to do anything. Ishida had volunteered of his own free will.

(All for the low, low price of _being_ a pack.)

Feeling more centered, Ichigo leaned into Ishida's warmth and focused on the notebook in his hands. If he wanted to help Ishida, he needed to learn what his friend had already learned. Only then could he start to ask the right questions or know the things that might result from the curse instead of his own problems.

For the first time in months, Ichigo felt curious; even the limited information Ishida had gathered painted a strange picture in his mind. A portrait of power and change and consequence that Ichigo had overlooked on his own.

If this was what Ishida could discover on his own, what could they learn together?

He almost couldn't wait to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

Uryuu kept an eye on Kurosaki throughout the day, never moving far from his pack-brother unless necessary. After everything he'd just learned, he really didn't want to let Kurosaki out of his sight; what if something went wrong? What if Kurosaki got hurt, or left, or… or _something?_

What if this was only a dream?

What if he hadn't yet awoken?

What if, what if…

(He'd come so close to losing Kurosaki already and he hadn't even _known_ _…_ )

Kurosaki seemed to crave the contact as much as Uryuu did, relaxing whenever Uryuu pressed into his side and tensing up again whenever Uryuu moved away. He was also much too cold, a perpetual chill that clung no matter how long Uryuu held contact, and didn't seem to notice except to note that Uryuu was _warm_.

Uryuu hated everyone in their lives. Hated how everyone, even himself, _missed_ these signs of illness.

But what could any of them do?

Kurosaki wasn't ill with a cold or the flu. This couldn't be solved with bed rest or food or medicine. His soul was shredded and every drop of reiryoku evaporated away the instant it formed, taking with it another fragment of Kurosaki's vitality.

(He could feel it, pressed against Kurosaki's side like this. Could feel the tiny flutter of _power_ against his senses like faint breath against his skin.)

(Kurosaki's power wasn't _gone_ , it just could no longer _gather_.)

Surely _someone_ knew the consequences and a way to at least _stop_ the continual bleeding of power. Even if Kurosaki could no longer be a Shinigami or wield his reiryoku, surely there was something that could be done to keep him from getting worse? Maybe Kurosaki's father didn't know, but what about that shady shopkeeper, or any of the Healers in the Fourth Division. _Someone_ had to have an idea… didn't they?

Uryuu sighed and let his head thump back against Ichigo's shoulder, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He was getting too distracted to read, mind wandering away and leaving him to stare at incomprehensible pages. Arrays and diagrams swam before his eyes and the strange letters bled together into an irritating, meaningless blur.

His grasp of German was only passable, after all, and his distraction was costing him.

"You okay?" Kurosaki asked.

He grunted and closed the thick tome, then dropped it onto the nearby table with a heavy _thump._ "Head's swimming," he muttered in annoyance. "I'm taking a break."

"Need me to get anything?"

"No, I'm fine. Just tired of trying to read German for now." Uryuu stretched his legs out and tilted his head enough to check on Kurosaki's progress. So long as Kurosaki hadn't been skipping around, it looked like he'd gotten through most of it already. "Any questions?"

Kurosaki hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the pages and a furrow appearing between his brows. "Not… right now. I… this is all a bit…"

"Overwhelming," Uryuu agreed.

"Yeah." He closed the notebook and dropped it on the table next to Uryuu's tome. "I didn't realize how much I need to eat now. I guess… maybe that's one reason I haven't been feeling well."

"Eat when you can, even if it's only a couple of bites," Uryuu suggested. He dropped a hand to Kurosaki's leg and let it rest there, ignoring the awkwardness of being the one to reach out first. "It's hard to keep up, but having the right sort of snacks around does help."

Kurosaki huffed and tipped his head back against the couch cushions, staring up at the ceiling. "Are you… doing alright?"

Uryuu frowned and twisted around to give Kurosaki a _look_. "I should be the one asking you that. I've known what this is and how to cope for months—"

"Not… entirely what I meant," Kurosaki said, then fell silent until Uryuu grew frustrated enough to growl low in his throat. "This is… ugh. I don't know how to ask."

"Then just _ask._ "

Kurosaki snorted and gave him a tired, amused look. "Then don't bite my head off, please? You live alone and… I don't think you have a part time job? Are you… managing okay?"

Of course Kurosaki would ask that. "It's… fine. I've learned how to deal with it."

"So barely and I've probably thrown everything off." Kurosaki eyed him for a moment, then said, "You should eat at our house. Yuzu won't mind cooking for another person all the time. You'll have to ignore Goat-face but he's… toned down a bit since… well." He gave a wry smile and shrugged. "Guess he's feeling guilty."

"He damn well should," Uryuu muttered darkly, ignoring the startled look that flickered across Kurosaki's expression. Whether or not Kurosaki's choice was the only way, he couldn't find it in himself to _like_ the person who gave Kurosaki the information to _do it._ "I don't… think it's really wise. I wouldn't want to put your family out—"

Kurosaki scoffed and cuffed Uryuu lightly. "Stop that," he ordered. "We _both_ have this curse, so obviously we're family somehow. Which means my _sisters_ might face this one day." He grimaced and rubbed at his face. "My sisters… ugh. As if keeping our Shinigami heritage quiet wasn't enough. Damnit, Goat-face…"

"I… really doubt he knows about this?" Uryuu offered, unsure why he was trying to make excuses for a man Kurosaki kept referring to as 'Goat-face'. "Ryuuken didn't seem to recognize what was happening to me if that… helps any?" By Kuroski's frustrated expression, it really didn't and he probably should have left that little detail out. It felt good, though, to know that Kurosaki shared at least some of his antipathy towards Ryuuken.

(He had a feeling he was going to start sharing that antipathy towards _Kurosaki_ _'s_ father as well.)

" _Anyway_ ," Kurosaki continued, "my sisters will love you and Goat-face can just suck up the extra expenses. It's not like we're hurting for money for all that he's damn near a bum most of the time."

Uryuu dropped his head against Kurosaki's shoulder with a sigh and closed his eyes. He was torn. He hadn't even _considered_ Kurosaki's sisters but… Kurosaki was right. Given all of their luck so far, it was best that the twins knew as much as possible about the curse. That way, if it happened to them or any of their children, they weren't faced with the same terrifying unknown.

(And the Kurosaki family didn't have access to the library that Uryuu did. They'd have to muddle along without even the fragmentary hints he'd dug out…)

(Just like Kurosaki had been doing.)

"Hey, hey, I didn't mean that we're going to tell my sisters right away," Kurosaki said softly, wrapping an arm around Uryuu's shoulders and hugging him. "We can leave that for later when we're on more solid ground with this. But… I know they'd like to get to know you. We're all a bit short on decent family, so… why not give it a try?

(Family. Family that _wasn_ _'t_ Ryuuken.)

It was tempting. The promise of family, of people who might _care_ , burrowed deep within his mind. It wasn't his _pack_ , but… maybe Kurosaki's sisters could help sooth some of that echoing loneliness.

And they deserved to know, didn't they? The curse loomed over _their_ heads as well, a silent and unknown danger that might someday come to destroy their lives.

"Alright," Uryuu gave in, leaning into Kurosaki's comforting touch. "Once. I'll try it once, and… we can see how it goes from there."

"Thank you."

Uryuu scoffed and snatched up the book he'd been reading, flipping it open to a random page and glowering down at the text. He still wasn't in a state to actually _read_ the damn thing, but having something in his hands was better than not.

(Better than trying to come up with some response.)

Kurosaki chuckled but didn't say anything, letting a comfortable silence settle over them and leaving Uryuu to think in peace. It didn't take long for Kurosaki to fall asleep like that, trapping Uryuu in place.

Not that Uryuu minded. Kurosaki needed the rest, and their position wasn't uncomfortable. Instead, he let his mind drift as he slowly flipped through the book, eyes skimming over the dry, technical language and complex diagrams. Foreign language aside, Uryuu felt… lost. He was missing information that the books _assumed_ he would know, and every diagram had pieces in it that he'd never come across before, notations and shorthand and symbols that made no sense to him.

And try as he might, he couldn't find the books that might have given him the key. It was as if they didn't exist, as if the only books his Quincy forebearers had ever written were basic primers or advanced manuals.

Was it all oral history? Was the information to cross that gap written _no where?_

(Did Ryuuken know what he was missing?)

It didn't matter if Ryuuken knew or not, since he refused to go begging to the man for help. He had no choice but to puzzle through it on his own and do his best. Another trip to the hidden cache of Quincy paraphernalia might help; maybe he'd just overlooked some useful books in his initial sweep.

Hours passed like that, with Kurosaki sleeping while Uryuu paged through the tome and ignored the whisper of _change_ that grew stronger as moonrise approached. He'd not expected to find the answer immediately but it still _burned_ to know how uninformed he was about his own heritage.

Uryuu sighed and took his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes, then froze as Kurosaki moved to prop his chin on Uryuu's shoulder. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Nah. I feel… restless," Kurosaki murmured sleepily, "Could ask Hat'n'Clogs if you're getting frustrated. He's a genius right? And Aizen said he invented a lot of shit people thought were impossible. If you're having problems, maybe he can help..?"

"I'm not _frustrated,_ I'm just—"

"Frustrated." Kurosaki hummed in amusement and ruffled Uryuu's hair. "You're tense, you just sighed like the world's personally offended you, and now you're grumping at me."

"Tch." Uryuu swatted Kurosaki's hand away from his hair and stared blankly down at the book. "I don't know everything I should. I think… I think Ryuuken was supposed to keep teaching me after sensei died, but… he wants nothing to do with the Quincy and… and I didn't even _know_ he knew much of anything until recently…"

Kurosaki nuzzled closer, arm tightening in a comforting hug. "You'll figure it out."

He bit back his immediate reaction and tried to think instead of react. Kurosaki's trust was a weighty thing and Uryuu _refused_ to do anything that would break that trust, even if it meant going to someone else for help. His own inexperience and lack of knowledge could, and probably _would_ , have disastrous consequences.

(It wasn't his own life on the line.)

(He couldn't do that to Kurosaki, to his brother who _trusted_ him to find a solution.)

"I'll do my best," Uryuu agreed. The idea of going to Urahara, to an _exiled Shinigami_ , twisted his insides into a knot, but it was better than going to _Ryuuken_. Even if it was treading a fine line between keeping and breaking his promise to have nothing more to do with Shinigami.

(But he wasn't. He wasn't. Urahara was _exiled_ and this was to help Kurosaki, his _pack-brother._ )

(His _family._ )

(This had nothing to do with Shinigami business.)

"I'm sure he'll help you."

Uryuu rolled his eyes and untangled himself from Kurosaki, dropping the book on the table and rising to stretch his stiff muscles. "He'll do it to help _you_ ," he reminded Kurosaki as he moved to the kitchen in order to prepare snacks. Moonrise was soon and they hadn't eaten for several hours. "I'm insignificant in his mind. It's _you_ he favors and worries over, not any of the rest of us. If I offer him a path to help you that he hasn't explored yet… I doubt he'll turn me down. He'll do anything for the chance to help you."

Kurosaki's stare _burned_ against his back but Uryuu ignored it. He was right and Kurosaki had no grounds to tell him otherwise, not after everything Urahara had done for Kurosaki.

"But he'll help you," Kurosaki said firmly, accepting the food that Uryuu offered when he returned from the kitchen.

"I think about it." It was all Uryuu could offer at the moment, the only answer he had for his pack-brother when every instinct in him wanted to reject the option.

That answer seemed to be enough for Kurosaki, because he nodded once and dropped the topic, letting silence descend once more.

"Are you certain I won't hurt anyone if we stay here?" Kurosaki asked quietly as he set aside his empty dish and tucked his knees up to his chest. "I… we don't know much about this…"

"It will be fine," Uryuu tried to reassure his brother. "You weren't mindless and you didn't attack me. You feel safe here, right?" At Kurosaki's nod he breathed a bit easier; he had no idea what to do if Kurosaki _didn_ _'t_ feel safe here. "Then I doubt you'll try anything even as a wolf. Trust me, Kurosaki."

Kurosaki breathed out and slumped. "Alright."

"Here, help me move the table back against the wall," Uryuu ordered as he rose and started to drag the table away from the couch. "You… you were a lot larger in person than I had imagined, so more space is probably a good idea."

His words jolted Kurosaki into motion and together they moved the small table aside and then checked the rest of the small apartment and moved everything else against the walls that could go. The end result was neither neat nor pretty, but it left them with more open space than before.

And just in time, too. Uryuu felt the _pull_ of the moon's power as it rose above the horizon and rippled through his body. An ache formed behind his eyes as his eyesight _changed_ and forced him to take off his glasses in order to see. He flexed his fingers and stretched, trying to work out the sensation of _wrongness_ that always lingered after the change.

(His body was no longer his. No longer _human._ )

(Neither one nor the other, his skin fit _wrong_ and his senses were both too much and not enough.)

A noise caught his attention and Uryuu spun around in time to catch the tail end of Kurosaki's Change, as a dazed wolf staggered out of amorphous silver streams and dropped to the floor, panting and exhausted. Kurosaki looked _miserable_ and it made Uryuu's heart ache; his own change was bad enough, but what must it be like to be entirely remade?

He crossed the space between them and knelt next to Kurosaki, carefully threading his fingers through his brother's thick coat of fur. "You alright?"

Kurosaki whined and pressed his head into Uryuu's hand, his eyes closing and his tail thumping lightly against the ground.

"See? You're acting more like a lazy pet than a bloodthirsty killer," Uryuu teased his brother, then laughed at the disgruntled look Kurosaki shot him. "Would you… uhm…" He bit his lip then dug his hand into Kurosaki's ruff and gave a light tug on one of the forming mats. "Would you let me groom you?

Kurosaki _whuffed_ and heaved himself to his feet, moving over to the couch and flopping down again in front of it. He gave Uryuu an expectant look, head cocked and body more relaxed than it had been all day.

Which was an interesting thought, Uryuu mused as he followed Kurosaki over and sat with his back against the couch. "Disorientation aside, do you feel better in this shape?" he asked as he started to carefully pick apart the tangles in Kurosaki's fur. "You're moving easier, I notice."

His brother paused and glanced away in thought, then nodded once.

"In that case, until we get you healed, I think we should take advantage of any chance for you to _stay_ in this form. It… it might be helping you to heal."

Kurosaki hesitated, reluctance written in his posture, before finally giving a shallow nod and an annoyed _huff_. He dropped his head into Uryuu's lap and closed his eyes again, letting Uryuu groom him without complaint but also clearly declaring the conversation over.

Uryuu bit back his amusement at Kurosaki's sulk and let his brother be, focusing on clearing out any mats and making sure his brother was comfortable.

He needed the time to think anyway.

* * *

Hours later and Uryuu had come to only one conclusion.

He couldn't heal Kurosaki on his own.

Given time and space and the chance to make mistakes, he had no doubt he _could._ Already his speed and comprehension was better than when he'd started trying to understand all the foreign books months ago, but there was no way he could do it fast enough.

(Not to help his brother.)

(His brother who _trusted him_ to keep his word.)

Kurosaki whined softly in his sleep, paws twitching and tail thumping against the floor. He wriggled closer and pressed his head into Uryuu's stomach, stilling only when Uryuu laid a hand on his head and resumed petting him.

With a sigh, Uryuu leaned back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn't do it on his own, but his only options were to attempt to coerce _Ryuuken_ into helping or to hope that Urahara would be willing to assist.

(No contest.)

(He'd take ex-Shinigami over _Ryuuken_ any day of the week.)

He leaned over and stretched an arm towards his phone. There was no time like the present to begin, even if his pride _ached_ at the thought of _asking for help._

(This wasn't about him.)

(This was about _Kurosaki._ )

(Swallowing his pride to ask an ex-Shinigami for help was the _least_ he could do for his brother's well-being.)

He managed to inch his phone within reach and straightened up, flipping the cover off and unlocking it with a swift gesture. Notifications covered the top of his screen and Uryuu grimaced at the sight, guilt welling up. He'd forgotten how much the others, especially Inoue, _worried_ whenever he called out without warning, and then in the excitement of _having Kurosaki around_ he'd forgotten to check his phone for an entire day.

They were lucky no one had decided to barge in the moment school let out.

Inoue wasn't the only one who had texted him, though. Arisawa and even _Sado_ had sent him messages throughout the day, despite how little they usually contacted him.

Uryuu set his phone on Kurosaki's shoulder and pinched the bridge of his nose, biting back his anxiety. He'd just wanted to reach out to Urahara, but… he shouldn't ignore the rest of his pack any longer. They might not have the same heritage but… he'd vanished without warning and without communication for an entire day.

(How many alarm bells had he set off in their minds? How much had they wanted to show up despite his reiatsu remaining calm and stable and in one place all day?)

Scrolling through Inoue's increasingly worried and rambling texts was terrible.

(He felt sick.)

(He'd done this. He'd cause them all so much worry.)

He gave up reading and skipped right to the end instead of reading them all, quickly typing out a response that would hopefully set her at ease.

 **Ishida** : I'm fine. Felt under the weather and got caught up reading.  
**Inoue** : !  
**Inoue** : do u need anything?  
**Inoue** : food? meds? more books?  
**Inoue** : oh! have u seen kurosaki-kun?  
**Ishida** : I don't need anything.  
**Inoue** : he wasnt at school or home and his sisters said he didnt come home last night  
**Inoue** : im worried

Uryuu glanced down at Kurosaki and debated lying before discarding the idea. Inoue didn't deserve that from him.

 **Ishida** : Kurosaki's here.  
**Inoue** : ?  
**Ishida** : I found him wandering around last night.  
**Ishida** : He's fine.  
**Inoue** : !  
**Inoue** : thk u!  
**Ishida** : It's nothing. We're fine. He's asleep.  
**Ishida** : We'll see you monday.  
**Inoue** : ok! hope u both feel better! lmk if u need anything!  
**Ishida** : I will.

He let his head drop back against the couch as he set his phone down again, relief flushing through him. As nice as it would be to have more of his pack around, he wanted to keep Kurosaki to _himself_ for just a little while longer. Nor was he prepared for the others to discover what he was; he had no way to disguise Kurosaki's wolf-touched appearance and everyone _knew_ he lived alone without any pets.

(Letting them in now would mean letting them discover the truth.)

(He… he couldn't. He _wanted_ but he _couldn_ _'t_ because _what if_ _…_ )

Not that his own disguise was much better. It was a fragile thing, relying on a crude spell cast on his glasses to hide the change to his eyes and on another, even cruder spell cast on bracelets to hide his claws. And all the spell on the bracelets did was make his fingertips difficult to focus on; a determined person could see through it in a heartbeat.

(Someday, he'd need to make his spells better.)

(Someday.)

With a grimace he picked his phone back up and debated which conversation he wanted to open next. Sado and Arisawa almost never texted him.

(How worried were they that they would do so now?)

He pet Kurosaki for a moment while he debated his options, then resolutely opened his conversation with Sado.

(He had at least fought alongside Sado.)

 **Sado** : ichigo with you?  
**Ishida** : Yes.  
**Sado** : hm.  
**Ishida** : We're fine.  
**Sado** : …  
**Sado** : need me to get him clothes?

Uryuu swore softly and fidgeted with his phone, uncertain how to answer. Kurosaki _did_ need a change of clothes, but the moon wouldn't be down for hours yet. Would Sado suspect something if he asked the other to come in a few hours instead of now? If he said Kurosaki was asleep and he didn't want to disturb the other—

His phone buzzed.

 **Sado** : i'll leave the bag at your door

He swallowed the hysterical laughter that wanted to rise and dropped his phone at his side in order to bury both hands in Kurosaki's warm fur and curl over his brother's sleeping form. Uryuu tried to ground himself in Kurosaki, tried to quell his rising _hope_ in the face of Sado's unexpected kindness.

(Sado's text shouldn't affect him so easily. It _shouldn_ _'t_.)

(He hated these scraps of caring they kept throwing his way!)

(Everything would hurt so much more when it was all ripped away again…)

Kurosaki whined and twitched, his tail thumping against the floor and his paws moving against the couch. The movement startled Uryuu and he straightened up, eyeing his brother warily and waiting for any further sign of awakening. He _hoped_ he hadn't woken Kurosaki; his brother needed the sleep more than Uryuu needed his comfort.

His brother settled within moments however, his motions tapering off and his ears twitching to catch sounds that Uryuu couldn't hear.

(Dreaming, Uryuu supposed.)

(He hoped they were pleasant dreams.)

Uryuu reluctantly picked up his phone and typed a quick 'thank you' to Sado in lieu of anything else. He still had Arisawa's messages to go through and already he felt exhausted.

(And all he'd wanted to do was message Urahara.)

(Damnit.)

 **Arisawa** : you with 🍓?  
**Ishida** : I'm not defending you when he sees that.  
**Arisawa** : hah! knew it!  
**Arisawa** : good!  
**Ishida** : Good?  
**Arisawa** : yeah  
**Arisawa** : look, you're probably the one he can relate to most rn  
**Arisawa** : i'm not blind  
**Arisawa** : i felt what happened to you  
**Ishida** : It's… really not the same.  
**Arisawa** : but its close

Uryuu hadn't realized that Arisawa was sensitive enough when they came back from Seireitei the first time to sense that he wasn't the same. All he knew was that by the time the Winter War was over, Arisawa was capable of fighting at their side and took to it with a grim determination that was relieving to see.

 **Ishida** : I suppose.  
**Arisawa** : right, so, look. i'll keep everyone from bugging you two  
**Arisawa** : but i want you both to know we're here for you  
**Arisawa** : either of you need anything, just ask  
**Arisawa** : we'll b here

A tiny, spiteful part of his soul wanted to type out a denial of some form. Wanted to force Arisawa to confront him and discover the truth.

(Wanted Arisawa to prove herself.)

(Wanted the inevitable to happen before he grew any more attached.)

Instead, he forced himself to send another 'thank you' and closed the conversation before he could do something he regretted. He set the phone by his side and ran his hands through Kurosaki's fur again, picking at a few loose tufts while he gathered the courage to text Urahara. Even if he avoided mentioning the curse, the man was far too perceptive. It wouldn't stay a secret around him for very long.

(But Urahara was a Shinigami who was at least a century old. Perhaps he already knew?)

 **Ishida** : If you have time tomorrow, I would like to meet with you.  
**Urahara** : maa, how abrupt!  
**Urahara** : what's on your mind?  
**Ishida** : Kurosaki has spoken with me about what happened.  
**Urahara** : … ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴

Uryuu stared at the kaomoji in surprise, then double-checked that he was texting the correct number.

Of course Urahara would use kaomoji. Of course he would. Why had Uryuu ever believed otherwise. The man had gone _entirely_ native in the years he'd been hiding from Seireitei.

 **Ishida** : Was there another option.  
**Urahara** : (＋_＋)  
**Ishida** : So there wasn't.  
**Urahara** : there were…  
**Ishida** : And the chances of them working?  
**Urahara** : significantly lower…  
**Urahara** : Yoruichi and I did what we could (_ _)  
**Ishida** : Fine. And do you plan to just leave him like that?  
**Urahara** : NO ((╬◣﹏◢))  
**Urahara** : but there's no research on this  
**Urahara** : it's taking me longer than I expected  
**Urahara** : my only lead requires too much reiryoku

He chewed on his lower lip, hesitating over his next message. There was no going back if he offered Urahara access to Quincy secrets. He could deflect, tell the man he only wanted to know what he was doing to heal Kurosaki, or he could give in. Tell Urahara about his suspicions. Let Urahara learn things Uryuu's ancestors had never wanted to fall into Shinigami hands.

(In the end, his loyalty to his pack would always trump his loyalty to some vague notion of 'his people'.)

Ishida: Have you considered Quincy methods.

He knew the answer had to be in those dense, dry books. It was doubtful his people had ever come across such severe damage before, but the techniques were _there_.

(And with Ryuuken's opinion on Quincy arts so clear, Uryuu had no one to turn to except Urahara.)

 **Urahara** : (・ ・ )? (・ ・ )? (・ ・ )?  
**Urahara** : quincy methods…  
**Urahara** : maa… Ishida-kun, i only know what i've observed  
**Ishida** : I have books that cover high level techniques.  
**Ishida** : I think there's a way in there.  
**Ishida** : But I can't understand them.  
**Urahara** : (・ ・ )?  
**Ishida** : They're written in German or other European languages.  
**Ishida** : I'm… not the best at reading anything other than English.  
**Urahara** : ah! well! if you don't mind me taking a look, i would appreciate it!  
**Urahara** : (⌒‿⌒) a new direction might just be whats needed!  
**Ishida** : I'll bring what I have over tomorrow.  
**Urahara** : of course! my door is always open!  
**Ishida** : Kurosaki will probably follow me over.

It was only fair to warn the man, given the way Urahara had been avoiding Kurosaki of late. Uryuu wasn't about to ask Kurosaki to stay behind, not with how clingy _both_ of them were being.

(School was going to be _torture_ until they both settled, Uryuu suspected.)

 **Urahara** : …  
**Urahara** : that's fine  
**Urahara** : thank you for letting me know  
**Ishida** : We'll see you tomorrow.

Uryuu turned his phone screen off and dropped it on the couch cushion by his head.

He hoped Urahara could find something useful in those books.

(He didn't know what he would do if Urahara _couldn_ _'t_.)


End file.
